Lost Fire

June 25, 2010
By Anonymous

A turn of our faces
A parting of lips
A sliding of hands
A need.
As our bodies entwined in the age old dance
I was filled not with happiness, nor lust
Nor sorrow, nor regret
I was empty.
The hollow remains of what used to be someone
But now only craved the heat of the flame of what used to be
And what could not be rekindled

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